


Dark Places

by LivesInTheStars



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Again, Character Study, Darkness, character studies are all i'm about apparently, i guess...it was also sort of a theme study too?, i haven't read this one in forever but i just KNOW all my author's notes are overexcited nonsense, i was just like "let's make everything about darkness and see where this goes!", implied ships, still not sure about the tagging system, theme study, which worked out pretty well if i recall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:33:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2492909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivesInTheStars/pseuds/LivesInTheStars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots based on different characters all revolving around a central theme of darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Darkest Place in the World

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my fanfiction.net account on November 19, 2012
> 
> I feel morally wrong about using Nico to talk about darkness since it's been done so much, but it's the best place to start. He kind of sets the stage for the other chapters.

Maybe it took coming to camp and realizing who I am to figure it out, but somehow I've always known darkness is everywhere. Mostly inside people. 

It fuels anger and grudges and hate. It births shadows and fear. One of the most common phobias in the world is fear of the dark. 

But there's lots of types of darkness. Some are beautiful and some are terrifying or dangerous or whatever. Darkness is everywhere and in everything. Maybe it's only descendants of Hades that realize how common it is. But it is everywhere. I can't go anywhere or do anything without seeing it. 

Darkness can be beautiful, like the night sky. If there wasn't any darkness, there wouldn't be any stars. If there wasn't any darkness there'd be no such thing as light. 

I think most people are scared of the dark because they're scared of the unknown. You can't see what's hiding in the shadows. You don't know when or if what's hiding inside will pounce. 

That kind of unknown darkness is the kind that's inside people. Limitless dark. It's just whether you shine a flashlight in there or not. Some people give in to darkness, letting it take them over. Other people fight it, trying to power enough flashlights to light up their whole soul. Then there's people like me. People who know the dark is there, accept it, but keep it locked up. People like me —if there even are any out there— don't fight darkness. But we don't let it control us. Or at least, that's what I'm trying to do. I'm trying not to hold grudges, like Bianca said; and I'm trying to get close to my father. I'm learning to accept the truth: people die, people move on, and people can't beat darkness. Accept or fight. 

The darkest places in the world are inside people. You just have to choose what to do with that darkness.


	2. Monsters in Your Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I feel like Chris deserves a lot more love. Plus, you know, he ends up in a pretty sinister place: being traitorous and mad and whatnot. And as much as I love HoO, I really miss the old characters. Don't get me wrong, Rick does a great job putting enough references to the old books. I just...I miss Clarisse and Katie and the Stohls and Chris and the Apollo cabin, and Silena and Beckendorf even though they're dead. And besides re-reading all of the original PJatO books, I have nowhere for these feelings to go. So I'm going to release all my feels and nostalgia on here.
> 
> You're welcome.
> 
> Originally, this was going to be Chris ranting about the gods, but I think I'll do that later on."
> 
> The above is the original author's note I had for this chapter, which, cringe-worthy as it is, stands true (except for the writing about Chris again, because I pretty much wrote three and a half more chapters and then abandoned this story). Needless to say, this was one of my favourites.

The shadows hide the monsters. 

That's what you've learned, isn't it? There's a monster in every single shadow. There's a lot of shadows. There's a monster in your own. 

Don't turn and look, now. Monsters strike when you look at them. 

Do you hear that? Do you hear her screams? She looked at her monster. Be smart. Don't look. Don't glance over your shoulder. Just keep walking. 

It has to end somewhere. 

Doesn't it?

It does, because if things never end then nothing ever dies and if nothing ever dies nothing ever lives. Endings are important. Death is important. Everything has an end. It's like the end of a string. You can cut, cut, _cut_ the string shorter. Cut down the life. The end of the string...

String...

Everything's all tied together, now, isn't it? Tied together with string...

Ariadne's string. You were supposed to find it, weren't you. Is that what you're looking for?

Who you're looking for? 

Who is who? Who is she?

"Chris!" 

Who is Chris? 

"Chris!" 

Just keep walking, now. Yes, there are a lot of shadows ahead. Just walk through them. You can fight the monsters —because that's what you do, isn't it? 

Fight the monsters...

Can't fight...

"Chris, please! Stop!" 

Don't, don't, _don't_ look back. Your monster will get you. Who cares about her monster! Who cares about her? Don't listen, now. Don't look. Keep walking. Yes, deeper into the shadows. 

But who is she?

"Chris!" 

There's a hand on your shoulder, and her sobbing, pleading, desperate voice is too close now. Yes, it's her hand on your shoulder. No, don't look. 

"Chris, please! Look at me!" 

Don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look. 

"Chris..." 

No, stop. You can't look. You have to walk. Her hand is not so strong that she can stop you. You have to go. You have to walk into the shadows. You have to look for it. For her...

For her. 

"Chris, can you hear me?" 

Is this her? Is she it?

Is she crying? 

She doesn't cry. 

"Just...just look at me, Chris." 

And how would you know if she cries? You don't know her. 

You could look...

"Chris..." She's just crying now, really loud. You really want to look. You know her. 

You don't know her.

Shut up. 

The dark is coming; coming for you. The shadows are fingers; fingers reaching for you. The monsters are waking up. Don't wake up your monster...

You turn. There is no monster. You have no shadow. 

There's a girl. She's crying. She has brown hair and light brown eyes and she looks strong, but she is crying. She is beautiful. Beautiful in a hard way, like moonlight. Cold and distant but beautiful. 

You put your arms around her. You don't know why. You hold her while she cries. It feels strange and familiar. 

And then she's holding you, a palm to your cheek. She's looking into your eyes. 

You don't know her...

You do. 

Do you? 

"Chris? Are you okay?" 

"You're an illusion," You say, and your voice isn't your own. Or it is, and you've just forgotten how it sounds. You pull away roughly, step backward. "You're a monster." 

She's crying again. "Chris, remember me." 

"I hate you!" You yell. You scream and you run and the shadows swallow you whole.


	3. Terrible Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes. The disaster of a chapter I unintentionally turned into a toxic relationship between Silena and Luke.

Silena's done a lot of bad things.

And she knows that. Every time she hits the button on her bracelet, she knows what she's doing is wrong. She knows that every word she says to him is something she shouldn't be saying. She could fill his ears with lies instead of the truth, or ignore every Saturday that she's supposed to make a report.

But she doesn't.

Silena can't help herself. It could be a lot worse. The drakon could have gotten in. A lot more campers could have died. And really, is what she's saying so bad? Chris isn't insane anymore. The Apollo cabin has a flying chariot. There's a feud between Ares and Apollo. Charlie and Percy are going on a mission to attack the ship.

Charlie and Percy are going to attack the ship.

What if Charlie dies?

No, of course he won't die. Luke promised nothing would happen to him. Luke promised he wouldn't die.

Luke promised.

The light, happy, naive side of her believes that. The side that's all rainbows and dandelions and mascara and is so in love with love that she watches RomComs   
once a week and practically inhales romance novels. But the dark side of Silena doesn't. The dark side wants her is just as dark as the Luke it believes in. The Luke that's a liar who betrays everyone around him but Kronos. The Luke that doesn't care about Charlie or Percy or Silena or anyone. That Luke sent Chris in the maze to go mad and Silena thinks maybe he did that just so Clarisse would suffer, or just to prove how little he cares about the demigods he controls. About other people.

Silena tried to make Luke fall in love, once. He was a disaster and she knew it, but he was beautiful. And the right girl could change him; that's what love was all about. Sort of. Love was about a lot of things.

She'd tried to make him fall in love with her.

What had that gotten her, anyway? A bracelet with a scythe and a lot of tears and maybe even forehead wrinkles from worry. Things got so bad that she stopped worrying about wrinkles. All that mattered was how soft his touch was, even though he was broken inside. Even though his beauty was dangerous and frayed.

Silena had thought they would be beautiful together. He could have been her first love.

But they weren't beautiful.

They were a disaster.

A beautiful disaster, maybe. He was just as dangerous as he looked, with his angry eyes and scar and how deadly he appeared with a sword in his hands. She'd tried and tried to save him from that, and all Silena had earned was pain.

So why couldn't she throw the charm into the ocean and never look back? Why couldn't she stop whispering to him behind cabins and in the middle of the night?

They're coming for your ship tomorrow.

They're going to blow it up.

Please don't hurt Charlie.

I love him.


	4. Phobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the other chapter in this story that I was really fond of.

Annabeth wakes up to the sound of sobbing. Normally Annabeth would ignore it, because sometimes Marcus cries in his sleep at three in the morning. But it's not three in the morning and the noises are farther away.

It's coming from the new girl's bunk.

Annabeth lets out a little sigh and climbs down from her bunk. This is the first time she's slept well in weeks, but she knows what it feels like to wake up with tears on your cheeks and a lump in your throat and a million paranoid questions running through your brain.

"Marie?" She asks, remembering the little girl's name at the last moment.

The sobbing ceases for a moment, like the girl's holding her breath with a fist pressed to her mouth, waiting for Annabeth to leave and go back to sleep. But the noise comes back a few seconds later, when Marie can't hold her breath any longer.

"Marie, are you okay?" Annabeth whispers, taking a step forward and skimming a hand along the side of Malcom's bunk so she knows where she is.

Marie doesn't say anything, but her breathing hitches. She's definitely not okay, then.

"You can tell me what's wrong, Marie. I'm the head counselor. It's my job."

Marie's quiet breathing evens out again. Annabeth shuffles forward hesitantly, hoping she doesn't trip over a work bench or something. That would really suck.

Finally, her searching fingers ram into the side of Marie's bed. Annabeth curses silently, ringing out her hands. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No," Marie whispers. By now Annabeth's eyes have adjusted and she can see the little girl's outline, and her pale skin and wavy blonde hair and gentle grey eyes. The girl's fingers are trembling and her eyes are wide with fear.

"It's okay, you can tell me." Percy's face is racing through her head again. They're on the beach and his eyes are the same colour as the sea and filled with the same restlessness and freedom. He takes her hand and smiles. "I won't tell anybody. Promise."

"O-okay." Marie says. She clenches her blankets fervently in her tiny fists and Annabeth notes the way they're tangled and twined around her legs. Marie breathes deeply, like she's trying to slow down her heart rate. "I'm scared."

"What are you scared of?" Annabeth presses, fighting to ignore the way the questions are starting in her head again like a Siren's song: dangerous but breath-taking and impossible to ignore.

What if he doesn't remember? What if you've been replaced? What if he's not even the same person you knew? Is he even alive? Is he even thinking of you, trying to remember? Or would he rather forget?

"I'm afraid..." Marie mumbles, interlacing her fingers and then releasing them. "I'm afraid of the dark."

Would he rather forget?

"Oh," Annabeth sighs in relief. "Scotophobia."

"What?" Marie asks, like she's afraid Annabeth has just diagnosed her with a rare and fatal disease.

"Scotophobia, the fear of the dark. Or maybe you have Nyctophobia, the fear of night." What fears do you have, Annabeth? What are you afraid of losing?

Percy. Everything.

"Y-you know a lot of phobias."

Annabeth smiles, right there in the dark. "I know a few."

Marie shuffles around in her bed, obviously contemplating something. Annabeth can tell by the twitch in her lip that she's about to make a decision. "W-what's your favourite?" Marie says finally, and it's clear she wants to take her mind off of the shadows in the room.

"Phrenomophobia and Ideophpbia," Marie opens her mouth but Annabeth answers the question before she asks it. "The fear of thinking and the fear of ideas," She whispers with a conspiratorial grin.

"Why?"

"Because thinking and ideas are exactly what children of Athena stand for. I find it funny that people are against that, or afraid of it. Plus they motivate me to never give up on a dream just because I'm scared it won't happen."

"Oh," Marie says.

"I've got something I want to lend you. One sec." Annabeth bounds over a workbench and up on her bunk as quietly as she can. She finds what she's looking for quickly thanks to her meticulous organizing. Marie's sitting up attentively when she gets back.

"Here," Annabeth presses the object into the little girl's hands. "It's a special nightlight my boyfriend bought me, so be careful with it."

Marie looks at her almost suspiciously, calculating. "Didn't your boyfriend go missing?"

Annabeth ignores the hole in her chest and the ache in her heart. She ignores the fact that no one's held her hand in five months. "Yeah. But pretty soon I'm going to find him on a big flying ship and we can be together again."

"Do you miss him?"

For a second, Annabeth wants to tell this girl exactly how much she misses him. How she keeps herself busy all the time so she can forget her pain for a little while. How she plasters on an empty mask, a facade, every morning. How whenever she looks at his cabin or his table or the ocean or her camp necklace or the space between her fingers, her heart breaks a little bit. But she can't make a little girl bear that burden. "A whole lot," Annabeth says instead. "Plug it in."

Marie does and it lights up, painting purple and green and blue patterns across the wall beside her bed. It tinges the girl's wonder-filled eyes with its colours.

"What does it remind you of?" Annabeth whispers.

"The Northern Lights," Marie says, spinning to look at her with an amazed grin.

"I told him I wanted to see them, so on our next date he dragged me to this little gift shop and bought me this, and made me plug it in as soon as I got home." Annabeth can feel a smile slipping onto her face. It feels good to think about him, even though it hurts.

"He sounds nice," Marie mentions a little wistfully. "What's the name for being afraid of the Northern Lights?"

"Auroraphobia."

"Like the princess?"

Annabeth manages another smile. "Like the princess." She gets to her feet and ruffles the little girl's hair. "Good night Marie."

"Annabeth, wait!" Marie jumps up and throws her arms around Annabeth's waist. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Marie. Get some sleep, okay?" She whispers. The little girls nods exuberantly and dutifully hops into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

What are you afraid of, Annabeth? How many phobias do you know? But what good is that? Percy doesn't remember anything; does he even remember you?

Annabeth climbs up to her bunk and pulls out the ridiculous pack of ceiling stars Percy bought her, to go with the nightlight. She tears it open and grabs one and takes the slip off the back.

Autophobia.

As she presses the stupid little star onto the ceiling above her bunk, she isn't scared anymore.

What are you afraid of? That he won't remember you?

Annabeth takes out another one, slowly. She knows exactly the right place to put it; knows exactly the right constellation that she's going to make.

Hercules. Percy's favourite.

What are you afraid of?

Autophobia. The fear of being alone.


	5. Dark Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have from way back in 2012/early 2013 when I wrote these (actually, I have half of a Drew chapter I may never finish, but irregardless), so I can't say for sure whether there will be any more chapters to this story. I still like the idea, and revisiting it has made me want to write for it further, so hopefully I'll add to this.

The gods are useless.

And selfish.

What have they ever done for me?

Nothing.

If they cared about the world, they wouldn't let in end.

They wouldn't let my mom go mentally insane.

They wouldn't let Thalia die.

They wouldn't let me jump into the black water before me.

Take a deep breath. Just two more steps.

One more step.

_Are you scared?_

_No,_ I think. And I ignore the fact that the voice isn't mine. It's Kronos'. Soon the only voice I have will be his.

_What are you waiting for?_

_Jump._

I jump. The black water ripples around me. I try to focus on the ripples instead of the pain, but it's too hard. It burns through me, turning my veins to fire and my blood to ice. My bones are like rock, but they might as well be paper mâché.

I try to focus on that instead. The memory of when we did paper mâché in school and I brought it home to show my mom. Her eyes glowed the moment I stepped in the door. I dropped my art. I ran to the closet.

When I came out, the whole thing was torn to pieces.

 _Your lifeline,_ Kronos's voice reminds me. I pretend the voice is mine. It isn't hard.

He sounds more like the voice in my head every day.

Or the voice sounds more like him.

I turn my attention to the spot on my side, my anchor. I ignore the pain as best as I can and focus on the spot. There's no gods, no fear, no dark water splashing my sides and threatening to pull me under.

No fear.

No gods.

No dark water.

_Are you afraid of drowning, Luke? That's a little petty, isn't it? There's much worse things to be afraid of._

_Shut up,_ I think, and I grit my teeth. I can't tell if I'm talking to myself or Kronos or the gods or the water. Or life. I don't know anything anymore. There's just pain and a voice that's mine but isn't.

Acid in my veins and fire in my head and ice in my stomach. It all broils together into a torturous chemical reaction. I wonder if anyone in Punishment feels like this. I wonder what you'd have to do to deserve this.

 _Side with the gods,_ Kronos whispers —or maybe it's me. _Side with the gods, and this pain is your punishment._

 _Right,_ I think. But it's hard to think. Having your intestines pulled out or your heart broken a million times or having cancer can't be worse than this.

I flash back to the time I visited my grandma at the hospital. I flash back to all the kids who need so much chemotherapy that they're there full time; how small and shriveled they were. I remember a girl I saw, who had so many IVs plugged into her that she couldn't leave her bed.

Most of all, I remember the mental ward. How my mom dragged me past there by accident, and the blank look in their eyes. Some screamed and were moved away. Some were silent, dull, doing nothing or repeating the same action over and over. I remember glancing sideways at my mom, matching the look she got when her eyes glowed green to the look in the patients' eyes. How much it scared me that the look was the same.

I wonder if anyone in Punishment has gone mad. I wonder how it feels. I wonder if Chris will ever forgive me.

_Ah, but you don't have time to be forgiven. You're a stepping stone. You won't last._

You won't last.

I won't last.

Sooner than I'd like I'm going to die. It could be a matter of days or months or years, but it's sooner than it's supposed to be. I could die right now from the pain.

_Wimp._

_I know._

I don't know how long I've been in here, but it's too long. What I can  
see of my skin looks like it has third degree burns, and my feet feel like they've caught on fire. Even my mortal point is burning up.

_Get out!_

I'm almost certain the voice is just me that time, because it's all fear. There's no undercurrent of a knife sharpening.

I manage to crawl from the water. My arms are so red it looks like I've dipped them in blood.

 _Good,_ the voice in my head whispers, and this time I know it's Kronos. _Now for the next stage..._


End file.
